


The Care and Keeping of Percival Graves

by petofi



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Jacob gives Percival baked goods, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Permanent Injury, Protective Jacob Kowalski, Recovery, Stress induced eating disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-23 16:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petofi/pseuds/petofi
Summary: Jacob befriends the strange man who keeps visiting the bakery. Percival is stressed from the anger and suspicion he's been receiving at MACUSA and takes comfort from Jacob's friendship and baked goods. The only problem is keeping it a secret.Inspired by a prompt on the kinkmeme.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I fully support having more Percival & Jacob stories, so I've filled this [prompt.](https://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1184.html?thread=1895840#cmt1895840)
> 
> _"Jacob adopts Percival. Maybe not as a son, but as a little brother (Yes, Percival has protested repeatedly that he is older, Jacob usually just pushes a pastry into his hands and pats him on the back before ignoring it entirely)._
> 
> _The man needs someone to look out for him, and he clearly isn't interested in getting himself a partner of any sort. So a big brother to get him taking his potions and eating properly, dragging him away from work on the weekend, even if it is just to the sofa with a book, it was necessary really. Jacob had no choice."_

The morning crowd had thoroughly diminished the number of pastries along the racks and in the bake cases. Kowalski’s bakery was so popular that Jacob had needed to hire someone to help out front during the busy times. Now that it was quiet he helped Marcy rearrange the pastries at the front window to look less picked over. He glanced up and saw a man standing on the other side of the street; almost blended into the last of the shadows which the midday sun had yet to chase away.

Jacob’s heart gave a little lurch, and not the good kind that seeing Queenie gave it. This was a shot of fear. Something else too. A sort of self righteous anger. Where was this coming from?

 The man stepped into the sunlight and started across the street. As he came closer he seemed to diminish. Whatever powerful figure haunted Jacob just out of memory’s reach, this man was not it. Under the warmth of the sun he looked much more human. He couldn’t be called ordinary, but at least he no longer seemed threatening.

 “Oh,” Marcy grinned slyly as the man stepped up onto the curb just outside the bakery’s door. He was dressed far more expensively than the usual working class customer. She bit at her bottom lip to plump it and sauntered to the till where she could bend slightly as she restocked the bake case in front. This put her in direct sight of anyone entering the shop.

The little bell rang as the man opened the door and stepped inside. His eyes scanned over the danishes, the kolache, the poppyseed buns and Marcy then came to rest on the tall white iced creature loaves that Jacob was adding to the window display. Beside them were the last of the morning’s other creature breads; the little rodent thief, the bulbous rhino and the snake dragon. Marcy straitened with a pout as the man passed her by and moved to join Jacob.

“Have you thought up all these yourself?” the man asked with a smile that was obviously fake. This man looked too exhausted to offer a real smile. 

Jacob studied the man for a moment as he considered how to answer. There was something terrifyingly familiar about him, but Jacob was certain that they had never met. Up close he could see just how worn down this man was. Despite his immaculately groomed suit and hair he had a weary, uncared for air about him. It was the same look many of the men from the trenches wore when they returned to a home with no mothers or sweethearts to look after them.

“I dream them mostly,” Jacob grinned his usual answer to the oft asked question. He picked up one of the rodent thieves and offered it. “Fun, aren’t they? This one’s made of traditional sweet bread. My grandmother’s recipe. Wanna try it?”

“No, thank you.” The man glanced around again as if looking for something, but he didn’t seem to find it. When he turned back to Jacob his expression was tense but determined to be pleasant.

“You’ve had this bakery for long?” 

“Oh, we’ve been open for about a month now.”

“And quite successful I see.”

Jacob chuckled. “Never thought it’d be so popular. But I think it’s the creatures. They’re different, add some whimsy.”

“Yes, your creatures,” the man eyed the snake dragon with a frown. He stayed silent for an uncomfortable minute. At the counter Marcy widened her eyes at Jacob and raised an eyebrow. She pointed a finger to her head and twirled it a bit. Jacob waved her away.

“Dreams,” the man said quietly. “You’ve never seen any creatures like these before?”

There was a fluttering feeling in Jacob’s chest, the kind he sometimes got when Queenie visited and he thought he could remember meeting her before. He even remembered her sister’s name before she told him she had a sister. There was a strangeness to Queenie, to this man, to his dreams. Everything felt more like memories. He had mentioned it to Queenie one day and she had looked delighted. But then she had told him not to mention it to anyone else. He listened to her. There was something dangerous about remembering, though he had forgotten what that was. Jacob knew this man could be dangerous.

“Course not,” Jacob said easily and wondered if he were lying. “They don’t exist, do they?”

The man regarded him with hollow eyes for a moment before giving a slightly pained version of that fake smile again. He let out a sigh.

“No, of course not.” 

As the man turned to the door Jacob felt a desire to make sure he would be alright. He almost invited him to sit down at one of the little round tables that were set to the side of the window where patrons could sit with a pot of tea or one of Jacob’s cups of cocoa. He knew the man would refuse, but still he wanted to offer something. Someone who seemed to carry so much weight on his shoulders needed all the support he could get.

“Here,” Jacob said as he quickly bagged the rodent bread and held it out. “On the house.”

The man hesitated but gave a nod of thanks. He raised his right hand to take the bag, but his fingers shook a bit and he didn’t quite manage to grasp the bag as they spasmed. He grabbed the bag with his left hand and pulled the right into his flared sleeve to hide it. A look of frustration passed over his face, but he quickly hid it behind a neutral expression. The bell jingled again as he left. Jacob watched him walk down the street a ways before turning into an alley.

“Well, he’s an oddball,” Marcy clucked her tongue. “Too bad. Best looking man I’ve seen all week.”

 

*

 

As Percival Graves entered the Woolworth building he prepared himself for the curious stares, the dirty looks and the sudden silences. Some of the unwanted attention was just gossip, but a larger amount was malicious. It hurt to realize that he must have been disliked long before Grindelwald caught him. Jealousy had always simmered amongst some of the other department heads who felt threatened by his youthful success when it had taken them much longer to work up to their positions. When he first became Director of Magical Security there was talk that he didn’t deserve it, that he was only given the position because he was well connected. He had proven them wrong again and again with his competency. Until now.

Grindelwald infiltrated the highest levels of MACUSA and it was his fault. He should have been smarter, stronger, more aware. He should not have let himself be vulnerable.

Now he heard whispers that he was becoming increasingly difficult to work with, but in his view it was they who were being difficult. He couldn’t tell if his aurors still respected him. Despite their deference and their “yes, sirs” they never quite looked at him anymore. They gave him guilty sidelong glances and seemed to avoid him when they could. Department heads refused him information or would file reports with his senior aurors rather than with him. Cases were being opened and closed without his knowledge and he was already scrambling to keep up with everything that had happened while he was... away.

It was for these reasons that he had decided to look into the Kowalski case himself. He had needed a break from his office; just to get out and be somewhere else. In the No-Maj parts of the city he was nobody. Unremarkable. The No-Maj papers didn’t have his face displayed across every front page headline for the past month. Didn’t question his loyalty, didn’t blame him for the scandal now facing MACUSA, didn’t question his abilities. How could he claim to be a powerful, competent wizard and still manage to get captured and impersonated by a psychotic criminal?

The president had allowed him to return to his role as Security Director despite the newspapers’ scathing commentary on his suitability, but it wasn’t enough. The trust was broken, his character maligned, his very survival a topic of contention. Grindelwald had killed so many, why would he keep Percival Graves alive?

After Gindelwald’s defeat Percival had been found locked in his own closet. There had been no sound, no light, almost no feeling. It was as if he were floating in an endless vacuum. Gindelwald let him out now and then to ask some questions or submit him to a few rounds of cruciatus. When found he was dehydrated and undernourished, but the only major injury was his damaged right hand; every bone shattered, all the muscles and tendons twisted by the spell that disarmed him.

Percival strode through the lobby feigning confidence, pretending he didn’t know he was a failure. His right hand stayed in his pocket, still shaking out of sight.

Once in his office he hung his coat and scarf on the rack. He sat at his desk uneasily (Gindelwald had sat here) and examined his hand. His fingers were stuck in a claw. Sometimes he had trouble bending or straitening them. When his whole body was so tense and tight his hand only seemed to get worse.

_Relax._ He told himself. _It’s safe._ (But Gindelwald had been here.) _No one can get into the office._ (But Gindelwald had gotten into the office.) He focused on breathing calmly and sitting up straight in his chair. (Gindelwald had sat in his chair.)

“Relax,” he said to himself just to break through the silence of his office. He could do this. He would do this.

The Kowalski casefile sat opened at the top of the stack on his desk. He pulled it to him and set out his charmed fountain pen.

“January 16th, 1927,” he stated and the pen dutifully recorded the date and then stood poised and ready. “After an investigation of the premises of Kowalski’s Bakery and Kowalski himself, it has been determined that the No-Maj Jacob Kowalski is not a threat despite his magically inspired baked goods. The obliviation has taken and memories only linger in the form of dreams, most likely due to the unorthodox obliviation method employed.”

Percival paused to massage his hand, trying to work the stiffness out of his fingers. Kowalski’s involvement with magizoologist New Scamander and Auror Tina Goldstein was detailed in the lengthy report drawn up after said events. He had been, apparently by his own choice, obliviated by the rain that washed the memory away from New York City.

“I see no reason to unnecessarily tamper with his memory and no further investigation into this affair is required. Case closed.”

The pen dropped lightly beside the paper report and the brown folder closed and sealed itself shut. Percival waved it into the “To be filed” pile and pulled the next case report toward him.

The rest of the day passed in an anxious blur. Everything he touched Gindelwald had touched. Everyone he spoke to seemed to be accusing him of something. He felt ashamed to have survived. It was the same he had felt every other day in the past two weeks. It was exhausting.

He used to keep his door half open unless he was too busy to be bothered. Now he kept it firmly shut. His office felt claustrophobic, but he was terrified to leave it, to face the people outside of it.

In the end it wasn’t Gindelwald that broke him, but the distrust of his own people.

It was midnight by the time he left. Almost everyone else in the building had gone home and the janitor had already passed through the department. It was a quiet walk to the front doors and out onto the dim street.

Percival’s nerves settled a bit as he walked. He wished he wasn’t so comfortable being alone. He wished there was someone he could spend time with without feeling judged or inadequate. He pulled his scarf around his face to ward off the chill and shoved his hands in his pockets. Something crinkled. He’d forgotten about the bag the No-Maj baker had given him. That had been kind of the man.

He carried the bag home with him, wondering if he should make an attempt at eating or not. Lately his anxieties had been so high that he had trouble keeping anything except coffee down. 

At home he sat in the kitchen. (Had Gindelwald used this chair?) The bedroom was down the hall, but he no longer went down the hall past the closet where he had been kept. (Gindelwald had probably used the bed.) Instead he spent his nights in the kitchen drinking coffee. Sometimes he napped on the table. It was terrible for his neck, but he couldn’t face the couch. (Grindelwald had crucioed him on the couch.)

He set the little bread loaf on the table in front of him. The little creature was probably the Niffler that he’d read about in the reports. It was kind of cute. He pulled off one of it’s little arms and took a small bite. The sweet bread was delicious. While he ate half of the Niffler he waited for his stomach to rebel, but it went down well. He stopped when his shrunken stomach felt too full. Maybe he’d try some real food tomorrow.

He slumped over the table and put his head in his arms. Just a little rest, he decided. But Grindelwald was in the kitchen. Gindelwald was looking down at him. When did he fall to the floor? Percival’s wand hand was shattered and his wandless magic was good, but hardly strong enough to take down Gellert Grindelwald.

He woke with a cry and sat up too straight too fast. His back and neck protested the sudden movement. He ignored the pain as he checked frantically around the room. But Gindelwald wasn’t in the kitchen, only in Percival’s head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really think this is how government employees would react to a security breach, but it works for the angst factor (and no one ever said that fanfiction had to plausible ;) 
> 
> Also, I like the fandom idea that Picquery an Graves are friends rather than just colleagues, so that's how I've written it.

The scandal of having a powerful dark wizard infiltrate the highest levels of the MACUSA left its mark on everyone. There was a bit of panic, a lot of low morale, and too much suspicion. Seraphina Picquery needed to be a president first and a friend second, despite her desire to put Percival Graves’ health on her priority list. She forced herself to consider him only as a colleague, but that didn’t stop her from checking in on him.

She knocked on his office door one night after hours. There was no response, but she knew he was still in there. In the past he had been known to fall asleep at his desk so she opened the door quietly. She was greeted with the sound of retching. Percival was on his knees on the floor, his hands bracing him up as he hunched over and gagged bile and spit into a small trash can. He was still dry heaving when Seraphina put her hand to his shaking back. She would have wrapped an arm around him but he flinched at her small touch. Instead she knelt with him until he caught his breath.

“My apologies, Madame President,” he said as he straightened and wiped a hand across his mouth. His shame was an oppressive pressure that weighed down the very air of his office. The tang of stomach acid and sickness settled in her nose and she vanished the stench and its source with a wave of her wand. 

“Shhh, Perce,” she wanted to stroke his hair, but she doubted he would appreciate that. He was doing his best to show strength and that meant not taking coddling or even comfort from anyone. 

“Did you need something?” he shrugged her hand off his shoulder and stood. “I’ll have that list of employees that still need to be re-vetted for you tomorrow. It’s taking some time to sort out. There’s evidence of imperius, but-“

“Percival,” she stopped him with a hand on his arm. He had taken off his suit jacket and his shirt looked loose across his shoulders. his waistcoat didn’t hug him as it usually did. He needed food. He needed sleep. “Perce, get some rest. Please. You didn’t have to come back so soon. If it’s too much-“

“It’s fine!” he said sharply and she knew her words had been a mistake that put him on the defensive. “Yes, there’s a lot to do, but we need to get it straightened out as quickly as possible. I’m fine. Anyway, I used to work late all the time before...”

He trailed off and seemed to draw in on himself. She knew he was not fine, but he found comfort in pretending to be. Currently he did not react well to being limited or controlled and she hesitated on ordering him to take more recovery time. She had allowed him back to work at his insistence and at the time she believed him capable. Gindelwald hadn’t left many visible marks. He barely touched me, Percival had scoffed. Just needed me out of the way. 

Also, there were whispers from members of the congress and outright attacks from the newspapers on Percival’s competence and loyalties. She had hoped his return would quell the accusations, but it only served to make him the target of ever increasing scrutiny. 

His aurors felt guilty and angry that they had been fooled by an impersonator. All of MACUSA was suspicious and brittle; weighed down by the scandal of having such a high level position be infiltrated. The public was fast losing faith in the government. Everyone needed someone to blame and it was easiest to shove it all onto Percival. She could see how they were all crushing him, herself included. There was not much she could do but shield him from the most vocal accusers, support him in public and try not to add even more pressure to his job. 

“You’re doing an incredible job under the circumstances,” Seraphina soothed. “But if you need some more time to heal everyone will understand.”

“No. If I quit now then they win, he wins. They want me to fail, but I won’t.”

“You don’t have anything to prove.”

“You know I do.”

She saw clearly how he had lost faith in himself. He believed the whispers and accusations directed at him and it was no use telling him not to. He needed to meet whatever arbitrary standards he had set for himself in order to prove to himself and to the wizarding world that he was still the man he was before his capture. He didn’t seem to realize yet that he could never be that man again.

 

*

 

The odd man was back. It was almost time to close the bakery and Jacob was sweeping the day’s dust off the front steps. When he glanced up he saw the man coming down the street; a striking dark figure against the drab assortment of afternoon pedestrians. It was a bit strange how no one else seemed to notice him. People stepped out of his way without looking at him. They moved out of the way so naturally, but it was as if they didn’t even realize he was there. He looked just as extraordinary and still as human as he had looked two days prior and there was something beautiful in that duality. 

Jacob was still on the step so they were almost the same height when the man stopped before him. The man glanced into the window and frowned when he saw the chairs stacked on the small tables inside. 

“You’re closed?” the man was unable to hide the slight tinge of disappointment. He glanced up at Jacob with a frown. “Isn’t it too early?”

“Nah. It’s normal for a bakery. We always close at mid-afternoon. Open tomorrow at eight.”

“Right,” the man said. He didn’t catch himself in time and let out a tired sigh that hinted at a sort of chronic distress. He was about to turn away, but Jacob stopped him.

“Did you like it? The bread?”

Something in the man’s shoulders seemed to soften. He still couldn’t manage a smile, but the corners of his mouth made a valiant effort.

“I did.”

“I still have some,” Jacob said quickly. “If you want...”

He let the offer hang as he motioned to the door. 

“If you don’t mind. I don’t want to keep you.”

“It’s fine. I live above the shop anyway. Doesn’t take me long to get home.”

Jacob opened to door and ushered the man inside. The racks had been emptied and the remaining pastries boxed up for the Salvation Army officer who would be stopping by to collect them. He selected the best little rodent bread from the pack and bagged it.

The man had pulled coins from his pocket, ready to make an exchange, but Jacob waved him off. 

“You’re fine. These ones go to the soup kitchen anyway. I make everything fresh everyday so the leftovers get donated. Not that you need charity, but, well, we’ve already counted out the till and done the accounts for the day and well...”

“Thank you,” the man spoke softly and managed another almost smile. “You’re very generous.”

Jacob shrugged, but he was pleased by the compliment and by the way this solemn stranger relaxed fractionally. He wondered what else he could do to relieve some of that stress.

“I’m gonna make some tea,” Jacob blurted out. He hadn’t actually meant to say that, but he wanted this man to stick around for a little longer. Not only did the man need a bit of caring for, but Jacob really wanted the company. Talking with his staff just wasn’t the same as talking with a friend. There was a nagging sense that he had lost a friend recently, but he couldn’t remember who that might be. “Would you like to join me?”

The man’s nose wrinkled just slightly before his expression smoothed out once more. Not a tea drinker, then. Before the man could open his mouth to politely decline, Jacob added, “Or I could do cocoa.”

“Cocoa?” There was interest in the man’s eyes now. He was letting his expressionless mask loosen in the comfort of the bakery.

“With dark chocolate and cream,” Jacob tempted. The man hesitated only for a moment.

“Alright.” 

Jacob selected two pieces of kremowka from the leftovers box and led his possible new friend to the back kitchen. He motioned for the man to sit at the long wooden table while he gathered the cocoa supplies. 

“I’m Jacob, by the way, but you probably already figured that out,” Jacob offered sheepishly as he set the pot of milk to warm. The man looked at him in that searching way of his before seeming to come to a decision. 

“Percival,” he introduced himself. 

When the milk was heated Jacob stirred in the chocolate to melt into a smooth texture. As he whipped up the cream he made the usual small talk. Percival wasn’t very forthcoming but he answered a few questions about his work and personal interests. He admitted to working as a government official and being partial to anything with chocolate in it. 

As they drank their cocoa and ate their cakes something relaxed in them both. Half an hour later Percival left with his little thief bread loaf and an open invitation to visit the bakery anytime, open or closed. And Jacob was proud to have finally coaxed out of Percival that first small but sincere smile.

 

*

 

Percival felt a bit lighter after visiting the bakery again. It was nice to have someone to talk to and Jacob seemed to genuinely not mind inviting a stranger into the bakery after hours. Maybe he was lonely too. Though that seemed ridiculous. Someone as warm and open as Jacob would surely have many friends. Percival felt himself lucky that the man was willing to make time for him. He decided he would go back during business hours at some point. It wouldn’t do to take up all of Jacob’s free time.

A few days after that second visit Percival was still feeling good about having a friendly ear to sort of confide in. It gave him a bit more confidence as he walked through MACUSA. He kept to himself as much as possible, but he could not avoid his coworkers all the time. Despite this, he tried very hard to.

In the mornings he tended to arrive very early, so early in fact, that he passed almost no one else on his way to his office. Cutting down on his interaction with the rest of the staff had become somewhat of an obsession. Get in early, leave late. Not eating lunch gave him one less reason to leave his office and one less reason for anyone to deliver anything to him. On days with no meetings to attend he could spend almost the entire day without coming into contact with anyone except his secretary. Restroom breaks were always a bit harrowing as the closest toilets were directly passed the typists desks. He hated how the click clacking of keys faltered as he walked through the two rows of small desks. He preferred to go down a few floors and use the restrooms near the quiet wand permits offices. 

By spending so much time alone, Percival was unaware of the rumors and the news that went around the MACUSA offices. So it was well into the day when he noticed how the silence that followed him was worse than usual. It was not just the sudden hush in chatter that his presence generally caused; it was a complete and uneasy silence that greeted him as he left his office to join his senior aurors in the conference room. The way everyone was suddenly engrossed in their paperwork sent a flash of anxiety through his gut. Only Tina Goldstein looked up as he passed. Their gazes caught for an uncomfortable moment and he saw her eyes widen before he broke contact and hurried on. 

The meeting was disastrous. The senior aurors gave awkward updates of their current cases that left out so many details Percival was forced to interrupt with questions multiple times throughout their speeches. They seemed reluctant to share anything with him. His skin crawled under the tension and it was with relief that he ended the meeting twenty minutes early. Everyone rushed out as Percival slowly gathered his notes and prepared himself to face the rest of his department.

Goldstein seemed to be waiting for him outside the conference room. 

“Sir,” she was hesitant and fidgety. “Have you read today’s paper?”

“Not yet,” he replied. It was usually delivered to his office in the mornings, but now he realized that today’s edition had never arrived. 

Goldstein bit her lip and then thrust her hand out, almost hitting Percival in the chest with the tightly rolled newspaper. He took it warily. He was about to unfold it, but she hurriedly stopped him.

“Read it in your office, sir,” she was less hesitant now. Percival bemusedly watched her scurry away. By the time he returned to his office and sat at his desk he had the feeling that something terrible was about to be revealed. With a slightly trembling hand he laid the newspaper out on his desk. The headlines ominously read:

MINISTRY CAN'T HOLD GRINDELWALD!

The article went on to describe how public enemy number one, aka Gellert Grindelwald, had escaped custody at the Ministry of Magic in London and was now back on the most wanted list. Further into the paper the editorial pages skewered both MACUSA and the Ministry, first for allowing Grindelwald to infiltrate the government and then to let him escape. 

Percival was surprised at how calmly he took the news that Grindelwald was back on the loose. But then a primal fear rose up and he found his whole body shaking with an uncontrollable anxiety. He knew logically that Grindelwald was unlikely to target him again, but he remembered the darkness of his closet and the sudden pain of the cruciatus and how his broken hand throbbed constantly as the bones tried to knit back together and heal without being properly set. 

And now everyone would look at him and think, “that could be Grindelwald.” 

Because if they didn’t know where Grindelwald was, who was to say he wasn’t in Percival’s office again? In his house? In his coat? In his skin?

There were a few minutes of dry heaving before Percival felt steady enough to summon his scarf from the coat rack. A trip to the bakery and a friendly face were in order.


	3. Chapter 3

Percival was surviving on coffee and pastries. Upon his rescue he had been given nourishing potions. They were chalky and disgusting and he stopped taking them as soon as he could. When he tried solid foods again he ate too much at first and made himself sick. Now eating made him anxious, which made him unable to eat. It was horribly ironic and not conducive to regaining the weight he had lost while under Grindelwald’s care. 

Layered up in his suit, his coat, his scarf he looked as imposing as he always did. His aurors rarely saw him without these protective barriers. No one at MACUSA commented on his appearance at all. Only Piquery seemed to notice his ill-health. She tried to speak with him as a friend, but Percival wasn’t ready for that so he kept her at a professional distance. Reports of Grindelwald’s activity increased but stayed firmly in Europe. Fear of his return began to dissipate and the newspapers eased up on their alarmist editorials. That didn’t stop them from questioning Percival’s loyalty though.

Thank Merlin for Kowalski’s Bakery. It was the only place Percival felt that he could relax. There he was just another customer, though he was increasingly getting special treatment as he and Jacob became something resembling friends. He started leaving the Woolworth building at the lunch hour. He felt the stares as everyone wondered where he was going. For years he was known to eat in his office; a sudden interest in going out for lunch caused a bit of a stir. He wondered if any of his aurors were casting secret revelios in his direction.

“Perce!” Jacob beamed when Percival entered. There was a bit of a line at the counter, but most people didn’t eat pastries for lunch so the tables were free. Percival tended to sit at the one furthest from the window. He would have liked the warmth of the sunlight streaming in, but discretion was a better strategy when a security official broke the law by chatting with a No-Maj in his recently investigated bakery. 

Why Jacob was always so happy to see him was a mystery, but Percival liked feeling welcome. They shook hands in greeting and then Jacob led him over to his preferred table saying, “You need to try this new packzi.” 

After gently pushing Percival into the chair, Jacob bustled into the back of the shop. Marcy glanced curiously at him, but then turned her attention back to the young man she was serving at the counter. Having decided that it was a lost cause, she no longer even tried to flirt with Percival.

Jacob returned with a plate and a mug which he set on the table with a grin. Then he invited himself into the seat opposite and leaned forward eagerly. 

“It’s my newest one,” he said conspiratorially. “I’m trying it out. What do you think?”

Percival looked down at the plate. Two huge eyes stared back at him. Percival had heard of this creature before, it was a mooncalf. Jacob had made a jam filled packzi. He had coated the top with chocolate and then piped a face with luminous blue eyes, nostrils and a small smile. It was cute. It was going to be a hit with the housewives.

“I call it the stargazer,” Jacob continued as he waited for Percival to pick up the fork. “Well, go on. Tell me what you think.”

Percival picked up the fork and hesitated before he just stabbed the fork into one of the mooncalf’s eyes. The filling was a raspberry jam and the chocolate frosting was just sweet enough. The whole thing seemed to just melt in Percival’s mouth. 

“It’s really good,” he said after swallowing. He took another bite. “Really good.”

“And the decoration?”

“Oh, I can definitely tell it’s a moon- a stargazer,” Percival assured. Jacob grinned delightedly and nudged the mug closer to Percival’s hand. Hot cocoa topped with cream. No one made it better than Jacob did. As Percival ate Jacob outlined his plans for other new treats. He planned to broaden his services to specialty cakes that would be good for parties and would be made on request. He thought the Stargazer would work well as a round two layered cake.

Percival was thankful that Jacob let him eat at his own pace, which was very, very slow. He kept waiting for his stomach to feel queasy, but it never came. Maybe it helped that he hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch of a poppyseed bun. Or maybe it was Jacob’s warm grin that eased the tension in Percival’s gut. 

Full of dessert and relaxed by Jacob’s chattering, Percival felt heavy and lethargic. Despite the massive amount of sugar he had just consumed he yawned and rubbed tiredly at his eyes with his knuckles. Jacob leaned his elbows on the table and scrutinized him.

“You look exhausted,” he remarked.

“Sleeping at the table will do that,” Percival muttered in a moment of unguarded honesty. 

“Don’t you have a bed?”

Percival straightened as he realized what he’d just revealed. His body went stiff and he began closing himself off even as Jacob seemed to be trying to reach out to him.

“I have an extra bed,” Jacob said. He didn’t feign nonchalance. He said it plainly, an open offer just waiting to be taken. 

Percival slumped forward again and rested his head in his hands. “I have to get back to work, but thank you for the offer.”

“It’s open anytime. I mean, you could spend the night if you wanted.”

A night in a bed. How many nights could he spend before outstaying his welcome? How many nights would he need to keep functioning? 

“Or you could even move in if you wanted,” Jacob continued seemingly oblivious to the inner turmoil he was stirring up. “I’ve been thinking about getting a roommate. The bakery’s doing well, but still, there’s rent on the building and I’m thinking of hiring another shop assistant and there’s a girl that I want to take to the movie house. Splitting the apartment rent would let me keep some spending money. You don’t have to decide now, but if you want to think about it...”

“Yes,” Percival said. 

“You’ll think about it?”

“I’ll move in.”

A bed. Sleep. No more nights drinking coffee in a lonely kitchen and wondering what Grindelwald might have touched. No more oppressive silence that he was afraid to break in case someone lay in wait for him in the shadows. Instead there would be Jacob and the smell of bread and the blessed, blessed warmth of kind smiles.

*

Jacob thought it was nice to have a roommate. He had never been a solitary person, but he had found himself becoming more isolated in the past years. He had been perfecting his baking skills and recipes knowing that someday his dreams of owning a bakery would come true. In the meantime he was a bit of an oddity amongst his fellow factory workers. It made socializing a bit awkward. Now with the bakery he found himself meeting and greeting people, which was all quite fun and stimulating, but when the shop closed Jakob was left by himself again. 

The apartment above the bakery came furnished. Jacob had added some of his own things; photos, a colorful throw rug his mother braided out of old clothes, additional lamps. There was a spacious living room area, an acceptably sized kitchen and a large bedroom. Two single beds stood with their heads against the wall, a window between. Jacob used the closet and the larger dresser. There was also a large wardrobe that didn’t match the rest of the décor, but which was perfect for Percival’s handsome suits. Two people fit easily within the space.

Percival was a soft spoken man and an extremely quiet roommate. He didn’t bring much with him except clothes, toiletries and a few books. The clothes were all dark suits; beautifully tailored but very solemn. The books were thick as bricks and looked to be highly detailed accounts of archaic law. One glance at the dense jargon and Jacob knew he’d be asleep by the end of the first page. He never actually saw Percival read the books, but he never saw him read anything else either. He never saw him do anything fun. Much of the time his new roommate spent in the apartment he spent asleep. Percival left in the early mornings, bustling out the back door of the bakery’s kitchen where Jacob would be putting the finishing touches on that day’s pastries. He got back late in the evenings and just fell into bed. 

Percival didn’t snore. He didn’t talk or mumble. But he wasn’t always quiet when he slept.

He did twitch. Once he cried. 

They had already traded war stories, but only the tea party variety meant to be politely amusing. The blood, the death, the terror they kept to themselves, locked up during the day. Percival’s facade obviously hid more than Jacob’s. Jacob was tempted to pry or to comfort or to just wake Percival up when he made those vulnerable little noises, but it didn’t feel right yet. Percival’s emotional walls were so thick that Jacob knew he needed to dismantle them slowly rather than try smashing through. 

It was a week into the arrangement. They hadn’t seen much of each other, but they had offered small grins and quick pleasantries as they passed through each other’s daily schedules. Percival worked Saturdays. Saturdays! Jacob shouldn’t be one to complain because he opened the bakery on Saturday, but only for the morning. He closed at noon and took the rest of the day off. Percival, on the other hand, left for work at his usual time and came home at his usual time. 

He must have been exhausted. Which is why Jacob made sure he slept in the next morning.

The soft sound of cursing reached Jacob as he sat at the table by the window and laboriously filled in the Sunday Edition crossword. Percival was up, then, and apparently on the wrong side of the bed. A minute later the bedroom door burst open and Percival appeared still disheveled with sleep and looking slightly harried. He cast a glare in Jacob’s direction.

“You turned off the alarm,” Percival said with more accusation than Jacob thought was necessary. He straightened himself out as he bustled through the room. A tug of his waistcoat and all wrinkles vanished. He ran a hand through his hair and it suddenly stayed neatly in place. It was when his coat and scarf seemed to jump off the rack into Percival’s waiting hand that Jacob frowned and spoke up.

“It’s Sunday.”

Percival scowled at him as he donned his coat. 

“I thought you didn’t go to church?”

“Work,” Percival growled as he flung his scarf across his neck. “I’m late.”

“It’s Sunday!” Jacob said again as he stood to cross the room. “Why are you going in to work?.”

“I don’t take Sunday off,” Percival shot back. Jacob was beside him and tugging him away from the door. 

“You should. You work all week and barely take a break. Come on, sit down with me.”

“No, there’s a lot to do. We can’t afford to get complacent.” Percival said a lot of strange things like that. Jacob knew he held some sort of government position, but surely the entire system did not rest on one man’s shoulders. 

“Come on, Perce. For me. My girl’s busy this weekend and I could use the company.” Jacob pulled his reluctant roommate away from the door and started tugging off his outer layers. Percival sighed, but relented. He let his suit jacket be hung up and then flopped with a dramatic flourish onto the couch in his shirt and waistcoat. He was still far too overdressed for a lazy Sunday, but it was a start. He toed off his boots without being prompted.

“You can help with the crossword,” Jacob smiled brightly. Percival was incredibly smart and very well educated. Surely he would work out some of the clues that Jacob couldn’t. 

They managed to fill in most of the crossword thanks to Percival’s large vocabulary. Unfortunately he was practically clueless about culture and history. Well, Jacob thought, the man read law books and never went anywhere except work. Jacob decided to fix that. Next weekend they would go out. He and Queenie might go to the movies. Percival could tag along. Or would that make him feel like the third wheel? Maybe Queenie’s sister could come too. Not as a date, just to round out the numbers. Was Percival even interested in dating? He didn’t seem to have a girl. If they went out dancing instead of to the pictures then he could meet someone. 

Jacob gave Percival a sideways glance. Percival was ridiculously handsome and well mannered. Surely, girls would throw themselves at him if he made himself available. 

“What?” Percival asked when he noticed Jacob’s scrutiny.

“You’re not seeing anyone, are you?”

“No.”

“Do you think…”

“No. I don’t care who you’re thinking of, I’m not interested.”

“Well, I didn’t have anyone in mind,” Jacob was a bit affronted. “I just wondered if you’d want to go out to a social club with me and my girl some night. We could dance. You could meet some…”

He trailed off at Percival’s expression. No dating, then. No dancing either.

He would have to think about what Percival might like. But first...

“Ready for lunch?” he asked. He stood and crossed to the kitchen. A window had been cut out of the wall so that when he stood at the counter he could look into the living room. Percival was sprawled on the sofa with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. Despite his posture he still looked exhausted and tense. His right hand, the one that he tended to keep hidden, rested on his lap with the fingers curled in awkwardly. 

“What you want on your sandwich?” Jacob asked. He pulled out the wheat bread he’d made a few days prior and started slicing. 

“Don’t bother,” Percival said without opening his eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

It annoyed Jacob that his roommate and new friend took so little care of himself. He hadn’t eaten breakfast and now he was refusing lunch. It was obvious that he was neglecting to eat. 

“I’m making you a sandwich,” Jacob said and to his surprise it sounded slightly threatening. Percival raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. Jacob pointed a salami at him for emphasis. “And you’re going to eat it.”

There was silence while Jacob made two sandwiches. He took the smaller one and set it on the coffee table in front of Percival. Percival looked at it and sighed. 

“I don’t think I can,” he admitted, the words pulled reluctantly from him. 

“What? You can’t eat a sandwich?” 

“I can’t keep anything down,” Percival looked ashamed at the admission. Then the corners of his mouth quirked up ruefully. “Except your pastries.”

“You can’t live on pastries. Just try the sandwich. Please?” Jacob pleaded. Percival reached out a hesitant hand, but stopped before touching the sandwich. He hunched over with his elbows on his knees and rubbed at his forehead. 

“I want to eat,” Percival mumbled miserably, “but every time I try it just... I just keep getting sick.”

“Alright, alright,” Jacob said soothingly. Then he sat down beside the man on the sofa, wrapped his arm around his shoulders. They sat like that for a few moments before Percival leaned back into Jacob’s half embrace.

“Mercy Lewis, I’m just so tired,” Percival almost sounded broken. 

“You need to relax.”

“I can’t. I need to show them that I can take care of everything, that I’m still strong enough.”

Jacob considered this for a moment. Whatever Percival thought he had to take care of it was obviously too much for one man. There was only one solution. 

“What if you don’t have to take care of everything?” Jacob said slowly. He could feel Percival getting ready to argue. “I mean, work - yeah, that’s still your responsibility, but what if I took care of you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ll take care of you,” Jacob’s expression brightened as he thought about how well this could work out. “I’ll make sure you get food and sleep and that you take time to relax. I’ll take care of you like you was my own little brother.”

“What? - but,” Percival shook his head, “That’s ridiculous. You realize that I am actually older than you.”

“I’m not sure that actually matters, Perce. You need someone looking out for you and I’ll be glad to do it.”

“No, that’s ridiculous. I won’t let you make decisions for me.”

“Suggestions and reminders only.”

“And I won’t be nagged.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Jacob waited while Percival mulled it over. It was a good plan. Surely Percival would come to the same conclusion. 

“Fine,” Percival finally said. “I’ll agree to try it. But if it doesn’t work, we stop.”

“It’ll work,” Jacob told him confidently. “Look, I already made you a sandwich. And I even included my grandmother’s secret ingredient. I put it into everything I make.”

Percival looked at the sandwich, but remained silent, so Jacob was forced to nudge his shoulder and ask, “Don’t you want to know what the secret ingredient is?”

“Alright, what is it?”

“Love,” Jacob said only half jokingly. He counted it as a win when he felt some of Percival’s tension ease. “That’s the magic behind what makes my bakery special.” 

“Magic,” Percival’s mouth quirked up at the corners. 

“Yeah, and I made this magical sandwich just for you. See, food isn’t an enemy, it’s a friend.”

With a sigh, Percival reached for the sandwich. He took a small bite and chewed carefully then gently placed the sandwich back on the plate. 

“That was easy,” Jacob grinned. He looked down at his own plate. “Do you mind if I eat mine?”

“Of course not. Enjoy it.”

Jacob dug into his sandwich as Percival dispassionately flipped through the scattered pages of the Sunday news. He didn’t look all that interested in current events. “You can turn on the radio,” Jacob suggested. “I’ve got some books too. Just picked up that new one that’s so popular.” 

Percival turned to lay with his back on the sofa cushions and his knees bent up, leaving his feet flat beside Jacob’s thigh. He rolled his eyes and huffed something sarcastic under his breath which sounded like “nomad literature,” which made no sense, but Jacob just put it down to the general oddness of Percival Graves. Not for the first time he was glad he suggested sharing the apartment. How this man survived on his own was a mystery. 

“I’m gonna take real good care of you,” Jacob promised with a smile. Percival sighed and closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not originally in the plan, but I wanted to expand on Jacob's relationships with the other characters before more drama unfolds. So here's a fluffy chapter from Jacob's POV.

Percival liked the routine they had settled into after that first Sunday he stayed home. Monday morning Percival prepared for work as usual. With Jacob downstairs in the bakery kitchen Percival didn’t take as much care to hide his magic. With a wave of his hand and a nonverbal spell his shaving supplies prepared themselves as he studied himself in the mirror. He did look quite bad. Hollowed cheeks, grayish skin, stress lines around his eyes and mouth. At least the dark circles under his eyes were disappearing as he finally got some consistent sleep. 

As he headed down the stairs he caught the aroma of freshly sizzled bacon. His stomach clenched. He had eaten half the sandwich yesterday and even a tiny bit of pudding for dessert. Jacob made eating easy. 

“Making something new?” Percival asked as he entered the kitchen. He assumed the bacon was an ingredient for a grindylow breakfast roll or something ridiculous like that. 

“I am actually,” Jacob grinned. He pointed to a plate and glass of orange juice set out at the far end of the long table. “Sit down.” 

“It’s Monday. An actual work day,” Percival protested. “I need to go into the office today.”

“Yeah, but it’s six in the morning, which means it’s breakfast time. When do your colleagues arrive at work?”

“Around eight,” Percival answered suspiciously. He knew Jacob was about to make a point.

“And when do you?”

“Six- thirty.”

“See, you’ve got lots of time. I made eggs.” 

Percival was surprised when his stomach did not go queasy at the thought of eating. He had the sudden realization that he felt safe. The bakery was safe, Jacob was safe, and the food Jacob made was safe. There was nothing there to hurt him or make him sick. Maybe breakfast wasn’t a bad idea. He sat and watched as Jacob put a small portion of eggs and one piece of bacon on his plate. It looked like an amount he could eat without being overwhelmed. If he went slowly.

“Coffee?” he asked hopefully. Jacob grabbed a pot off the stove and poured the dark, rich liquid into a mug. If this is what Jacob meant by taking care of him, then he would never say no again. He ate awkwardly with the fork in his left hand because his right hand was too stiff in the mornings to be of much use. Jacob had never asked about the hand, but Percival could see the curiosity about it in his eyes. 

“It was shattered. Completely crushed,” Percival blurted suddenly, surprising himself by his desire to share something. Jacob gave him so much, the least he could do was give a bit of himself in return. 

“Wow,” Jacob whistled lowly. He came close and took Percival’s hand in both of his own to examine it. Jacob’s hands were strong and he pressed his fingers into Percival’s palm. Percival tensed in an attempt to stay as still as possible, but Jacob felt the flinch anyway. He tried to be gentle, but the muscles in the hand were very stiff. “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Yes,” Percival finally admitted to how crippled he was without his wand hand. Since being released from the hospital he had been relying on wandless magic to do the simplest tasks. At this rate he would never be cleared for field work. Jacob continued to massage the hand, his own warm fingers kneading some of the tension out. 

“Hey, Perce. Tomorrow why don’t you get up with me in the morning? I’ll show you how to make the sweet bread you like.”

“That’s a nice offer, but I’m not sure why-“

“I think it’ll loosen up your hand. If you work it more I think it will get better faster.”

And so that’s how Percival Graves ended up spending the week kneading sweet dough and eating breakfast. It did help a bit. Working the dough gave his hands something to do that did not require finesse or much control. The warm dough felt nice between his fingers as he laid it out on the lightly floured table. The dough was soft and elastic and kneading it helped regain some of the hand strength that he had lost. It hurt at first, but gradually his hand became used to being used.

It was quiet in the kitchen in the early morning hours. The simple overhead bulbs glowed while the ovens heated the room until it was nice and cozy. In the summer it would be sweltering, but as winter moved slowly toward spring Percival was happy to spend his mornings in the kitchen. They didn’t chat much, mostly worked in silence. It was calming in a way that Percival didn’t expect. By the time he ran upstairs to change and prepare for work he felt relatively relaxed and ready to face the day. And if he arrived at work at seven-thirty instead of six-thirty, well, no one was there to know anyway. 

*

Percival was eating breakfast every morning even if it was just a few bites of scrambled egg. He still stopped by the bakery for lunch, and now Jacob made sandwiches for them to share. Percival rarely finished his even when it was only a half, but he was eating so Jacob counted this as a win. Already Percival was looking more cared for and it was a very good look on him. He had always dressed impeccably, of course, and he was naturally handsome. But now there was more ease to the set of his shoulders. Some of the tension around his mouth and eyes had been wiped away by regular sleep and food. He looked more alive. Jacob decided he deserved a pat on the back for bringing out these positive changes.

The man was certainly more relaxed. Even though he had started leaving for work later he did not make up the time by staying any longer into the night. In fact, on some nights he even came back to the apartment earlier than usual. Jacob enjoyed having the company on those nights. After closing the shop for the day he was alone for the evening and lonely evenings often stretched too far into the darker hours. 

The next thing he decided to work on was getting Percival out. Where could he take Percival on an evening after work? The man wasn’t the sociable sort, but maybe he would like walking in the park or seeing a film. All Jacob had to do was find a way to tear him away from his paperwork.

“Hey, Perce,” Jacob tested the waters one night, “what kind of stories do you like?”

Percival looked up from the document he was reading. An array of folders was spread across the couch and coffee table. They were reports Percival said, but he never mentioned who wrote them or what they reported. Technically Percival should not bring his paperwork home with him since the documents were official government property. Jacob had to swear not to read any parts of the reports. He dutifully averted his eyes from any stray sentences he might accidently read, but he couldn’t help but notice the letterhead. MAC USA was a branch of the government he was unfamiliar with. He trusted Percival, but the man’s job seemed overly secretive. That’s why Jacob’s chest had puffed out with pride when he realized how much Percival must trust him in return to even consider bringing classified documents back to the apartment where Jacob could illicitly read them if he was sneaky about it.

Percival thought about the question for a moment before answering. “Ones with happy endings.”

Jacob smiled. “Well, of course. Everyone likes those. But do you like funny ones or romantic ones or fantasy ones?”

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“What books do you like?”

“I don’t read for pleasure,” Percival explained and at Jacob’s disapproving look he scowled. “I don’t have time.”

“You don’t do anything for pleasure,” Jacob muttered. He read through the reviews in the newspaper once more, wondering which film Percival would enjoy most. Would he like Clara Bow or was she a bit too modern for him? Maybe an adventure story with pirates or chases and narrow escapes. 

In the end Percival vetoed all of Jacob’s suggestions and stayed late at the office for the rest of the week. The man was ridiculous! He avoided doing anything fun. Queenie, however, was absolutely delighted to go to the movie house. She claimed to have never been to one before. 

“Thank you, honey,” Queenie hugged Jacob’s arm and leaned into his shoulder as they ambled down the sidewalk after the show. “That was wonderful!”

“You liked it?” Jacob grinned widely.

“Oh, yes! They’re so clever to figure out how to use technology to make pictures move like that.”

Queenie said odd things sometimes. Percival did too. It seemed to Jacob that there was a reason for that, but he could never recall what the reason might be. He just smiled at her and asked, “So you wanna go again sometime?”

“Of course, honey!”

“What about your sister?”

Queenie hesitated. She and her sister seemed to go out and do things together, but Tina rarely joined in on the outings that Queenie and Jacob planned. She always seemed anxious. But Jacob wanted to know her better because she was so important to Queenie. He thought the obvious reason for her reluctance was that she felt she was in the way. He had a solution for that now. In fact, he could solve two problems at once. Surely Percival would be a gentleman and concede to escorting a young lady on a night out with friends. No dating, no romance, no commitments. Really, Jacob was just trying to persuade two introverts to go out and have some fun.

“Tina’s not really one for…. frivolities,” Queenie said carefully. She winced at how solemn that made her sister sound and tried to add a more positive spin to it. “She’s very career focused. And she’s taking on a lot of responsibility at work.”

“Just one night,” Jacob wheedled. “And if I brought my roommate we could go as a group.”

Queenie giggled. “Tina’s already got a crush. He’s traveling right now, but we’re…” Her expression fell suddenly as she looked at Jacob. “We’re waiting for him to come back.”

“That’s nice she’s got someone,” Jacob said lightly. He was concerned by Queenie’s sudden change in mood. She had been so happy a moment ago, but talk of her sister seemed to upset her.

“He’s really nice,” Queenie plastered a smile on her face, “He works with exotic creatures – animals – He’d love your bakery. And I know he’d want to meet you. I’ll introduce you!”

“Okay,” Jacob grinned. 

Maybe when Tina’s traveling beau returned they could all go out for dinner. They could double date and Jacob could get to know the important people in Queenie’s life. He would find some other activity to do with Percival. Something they could do quietly together. In fact, his conversation with Queenie put a great idea into his head.

On Saturday Jacob spent the morning in the bakery as usual. Marcy had the day off, but Dierdre, one of the girls from the apartments down the block, came in to help out. She had just entered high school and got her working papers and was excited to earn some extra income for her large family. There was always a bit of a rush on Saturday mornings, but that day proved to be more hectic than usual. Another article had just been published about the bakery now that Jacob had expanded into custom cakes and sweets. A whole new customer base came in to see his creations for themselves. Jacob was surprised to see a number of more fashionable men and ladies eyeing his thief loaves and stargazer cakes. Poor Dierdre was almost run off her feet answering questions, bagging pastries and ringing up the till. 

Jacob had turned off the morning alarm again so he was not surprised at the late hour when Percival came down for breakfast. Most likely he had awakened earlier, but spent some time enjoying a quiet morning alone. He flexed the fingers on his crippled hand looking pleased with himself. No doubt he had been practicing with his hand. He preferred to practice alone so that no one would see how hard it was for him to do the simplest tasks such as holding a glass of water or picking up a pen. 

Jacob had a small pancake and a piece of bacon keeping warm on top of the stove. He was setting the plate in front of Percival when Dierdre came rushing into the back and burst into tears. Percival immediately stood in alarm. His whole body seemed to coil in as if just waiting to spring forth into action. It was a different type of tense than Jacob had seen in him before. This was with purpose, this was powerful.

“What’s wrong?” Percival took charge of the situation while Jacob’s first instinct was to offer a handkerchief and a hug. Dierdre shook her head as she tried to get the words out in hitched breaths.

“Th… There’s so many people!”

Poor thing, Jacob thought. She was young and new and overwhelmed.

“They’re getting mad,” the girl sobbed. Jacob was taking off his apron but Percival beat him out the door to the shop. 

“Sit here a moment,” Jacob told Dierdre. He passed her his handkerchief and a warm paczki. “Eat that. Perce and I will get things sorted.”

When Jacob stepped out front he was surprised to see Percival very sternly directing the customers into a neat line. Anyone who grumbled or complained about waiting too long received a polite smile and the assurance that they would be given attention soon. His smile turned a bit sharper when he added that they were free to find another bakery if this one did not meet their standards. 

Most of the customers were content to wait. It was only a select few that had complained enough to fluster Dierdre and send her running. Percival quickly disarmed those customers with his impeccable manners and the promise that Jacob would see to them personally. When next they were confronted with Jacob’s natural affability they became almost sheepish at their earlier rude behavior. 

Jacob watched Percival with avid curiosity. The man hardly noticed the appreciative looks the fashionable ladies gave him as their gazes roved his neat figure. As usual he had made himself look effortlessly perfect before leaving the apartment to start his day. Jacob rarely saw him in public so it was interesting to note how easily he could command a room. In his elegant suit he looked nothing like a shop clerk, but everyone who had seen him step in to organize the chaos seemed very impressed by his willingness to help out in a role that seemed so obviously beneath him. He bagged a few pastries but hesitated at the cash register.

“I don’t know how to use this thing,” Percival told the matronly woman whom he had just led to the counter. She smiled indulgently at him, obviously charmed. A plainly dressed young lady from the back spoke up shyly.

“I know how,” she flushed when Percival turned his attention to her. “I work in a hat shop and we use one just like that. Should… should I show you?”

“Yes, thank you,” Percival smiled. Jacob could see now that it was his polite smile, not the real smile he gave Jacob. The cash register was easy to learn and Percival picked it up right away. He gave his blushing instructor an extra cinnamon bun in gratitude for her help. When Dierdre finally returned, dry-eyed and determined, the shop was still packed but running smoothly again. Percival gave up his place behind the counter, though he stayed on hand to help customers. By closing time the shelves were almost empty. Jacob had Dierdre pick out a few pastries to take home along with her day’s wage. The girl skipped off happily, promising to do better next week.

“Come on. Grab one of those leftover snake breads. No sandwiches today, I’m making something special for lunch,” Jacob ushered Percival upstairs. He had already prepared the kielbasa that morning. All he had to do was cook it up with the potatoes and add his grandmother’s special sauce. He wanted to get a warm, hearty meal in Percival before they went out. 

“How’d you learn to control a crowd like that?” Jacob glanced curiously to where Percival leaned against the counter.

“I’m in charge of the department of security. Mostly paperwork now, but I used to be a…” Percival thought a moment before choosing the word, “…a cop.”

Jacob chuckled. “In my experience you never stop being a cop.”

“I guess not.”

“Though, if you ever need a career change, I’d be glad to hire you.”

Percival’s mouth twisted into one of those old, worn out smiles that Jacob hadn’t seen recently. “It may come to that. If I’m lucky,” was his cryptic response. There was a tension in the air that Jacob didn’t like. This was meant to be Percival’s safe space. Bringing benign paperwork home was acceptable, bringing worries and insecurities home was not. He turned from the oven and caught Percival’s eye. 

“You can stand at the door and be my bakery bouncer. Anyone makes trouble you throw ‘em out.”

Percival snorted slightly in amusement. The atmosphere in the kitchen relaxed again as Jacob divided the food, then handed the plate with the smaller portion to Percival. As they sat to eat he told Percival the plan for the rest of the afternoon. Percival looked a bit dubious.

“The zoo?”

“Yeah, over in Central Park. Have you ever been?”

“No.”

“Me neither. We can explore it together.”

Jacob knew he was not skilled in making convincing arguments. Instead he turned to the fine art of the puppy eyes. Jacob seemed so sweet and guileless, no one expected to be manipulated by his sadly rejected frown or the vulnerable wrinkle of his forehead. Under such an assault Percival was quick to agree to the outing just to make the smile return to his friend’s face.

“You’re gonna love the zoo,” Jacob told him. “I just know it.”

By the end of the day it was clear that Percival may not have loved the zoo, but he didn’t hate it either. The animals were very interesting, but he grimaced at the small, unnatural spaces they were kept in. Still, he threw Jacob that true smile when he glanced over. Percival liked the park itself much better and they spent hours walking it quietly and companionably. Back at the apartment Jacob forced Percival to eat a piece of toast before he fell in to bed. With meals and sleep Percival’s health was improving, but his body was still not in top shape and the long walk had worn him out. He slipped under his sheets while Jacob put on a new shirt for his movie date with Queenie. 

“I’ll be home before eleven,” Jacob said to the blanketed lump across the room.

“I’ll be asleep,” Percival returned. “Have fun.”

And as promised Percival was asleep when Jacob returned. He was still a bit giddy from the kisses Queenie had given him, but he tried to be as quiet as possible as he prepared for bed. Once under the covers, however, he was easily lulled into sleep by the soft sound of Percival’s steady breaths.

When Jacob woke he thought it was time to get up. Feeling groggier than usual he swung his legs over the side of his bed and yawned. In the other bed Percival fidgeted. What time was it? The clock face showed it to be far too early to start the day, even for a baker. 

Percival let out a small noise and Jacob understood what had woken him. Listening to Percival’s nightmares was unpleasant. He much preferred sleeping through them. 

“No…” Percival’s voice was small and still asleep. He turned his head into the pillow, but Jacob still heard the muffled noises of his fear. 

“Alright,” Jacob whispered to himself as he made a decision. It was time to stop letting Percival work through these bad nights alone. They were friends now and could share in each other’s hard times. He would try waking Percival verbally first. 

“Percival,” he called gently. “Percival, wake up. It’s a dream. Perce.”

When that offered no results he crossed the small space to the other bed and leaned down. He gently shook the dreaming man’s shoulder. “Percival.”

When Percival jerked up he was wide-eyed and shaking. Jacob felt himself being thrown back several feet. He could swear that both of Percival’s hands remained clenched in the blanket, but the startled man must have been the one to push him away. There was no other explanation. He stayed where he was as Percival slowly gained awareness. 

“Jacob?” 

“You were having a bad dream. You okay?”

“I… yes.”

“Do you want some water or anything?”

“Light.”

“Light? Oh!” Jacob quickly switched on the little lamp that sat on the table between the two beds. The bulb was not very strong, but it cast a warm glow across the room. Percival took a deep breath and seemed to calm. 

“He… locked me up and… I just…” Percival scrubbed at his eyes tiredly. “I hate remembering.”

“You’re safe here,” Jacob sat on the side of the bed and reached out. “Let me see your hand.”

The hand was stiff, tightened into that ugly claw that Percival always tried to hide. Jacob determinedly worked at it until the muscles relaxed enough for Percival to unclench his fingers. He still didn’t know what his roommate had experienced, but he knew the effects and he was learning how to counter them. 

“I’ll always look out for you. That’s a promise. Okay?”

That haunted expression softened and a fond light warmed Percival’s eyes. “Thank you.”

“It’s what big brothers do, even if you are only adopted.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone here understand how the wizarding world of the United States is supposed to work? They seem to be up on equal rights, but they're xenophobic and segregated. I also assume their population is tiny compared to the rest of the country. So at the beginning of this chapter I've made a bunch of stuff up. 
> 
> I'm not as sure of this chapter as I'd like to be, but I have to stop tinkering with it at some point. Here it is, then. Please enjoy!

The segregation between the magical community and the no-maj community was a hard line, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be crossed. To separate the magical community completely from that of the no-maj’s would be impossible without separating physically. Instead wizards lived in the hidden spaces within the No-Maj world. But wizards in the United States were a minority, their population was a fraction of even other minorities in the country. And spread out as they were, they could not be entirely self-sufficient. There were not enough magical farmers or tailors or landlords to accommodate everyone. Therefore it was expected that witches and wizards would buy vegetables or jewelry or furniture from a no-maj. They might be regular customers to their local no-maj butcher and speak with the man every week, but they would never become friends. And so business transactions and small interactions were permissible. Speaking about magic, showing magic or becoming too involved with a no-maj, those activities were illegal. 

Eating at Jacob’s bakery now and then would have been fine. Becoming friends with the man was breaking the law. Moving in with him and going on weekend excursions was a betrayal of Percival’s very job description as Director of Magical Security. 

But he wasn’t going to stop. Jacob was a lifeline when he had needed it most. He hadn’t had such an intimate and positive relationship with someone in years. If he put an end to their friendship now then he was sure he would fall apart. 

He tried to at least limit his exposure to no-maj culture. Wizards read books, looked at art and listened to music created by other wizards. Part of the law was to keep the no-maj culture separate so that their ideas would not be reflected in wizarding society. No-maj’s had dangerous ideas about race and a lack of respect for women and an intolerance for anyone different. It was best to leave all that alone.

So despite Percival’s desire to spend time with Jacob, he quickly rebuffed the idea of going to a film. The zoo he could allow. Just because the creatures weren’t magical didn’t mean they weren’t interesting or educational. Seeing them caged up like that had sent a shiver of memories of his own captivity up his spine, but Jacob was there to warm him again with a smile. He enjoyed his afternoon immensely. It had been a long time since he had taken a day off to spend time with a friend. 

They were very much friends now. No one else, not even the hospital staff, had acknowledged and offered to share in the burden of his nightmares. Luckily Jacob had not noticed that lapse in magic when Percival had thrown him partway across the room in a panic. It was a bit exhausting to have to keep all that magic hidden away. And a bit sad to have to hide that part of himself from a friend. Jacob deserved better than a roommate with a double life, but Percival did truly believe that keeping the Wizarding world a secret was for the best and was resolved never to divulge its existence to any no-maj. He only felt a little bit guilty about the small lies he told to explain his job and life experiences in no-maj terms. 

Percival didn’t know if he was happy, but he was as content as he had ever been and that was enough. 

“Remember, I won’t be back for lunch today,” Percival said one day as he rushed past the tray of cooling occamies. He had an afternoon full of meetings which he wasn’t looking forward to and he was already running a bit late. One foot was past the threshold of the back door when he felt his coat getting tugged back. When he turned Jacob was holding up a Kowalski’s bag with an expecting expression. 

“You can’t go without lunch,” Jacob insisted. 

“Thank you,” Percival didn’t think he deserved Jacob’s neverending kindness, not after his screw-up with Grindelwald, but a little greedy piece of him welcomed every gentle gesture the man bestowed upon him. He grabbed the bag and stepped outside into a chilly morning. The back alley was deserted so he gripped his wand in still stiff fingers and apparated outside the Woolworth building. As usual, no one greeted him as he walked through the lobby and made his way up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He arrived at his office later than usual, but still made it in before most of his aurors. 

Only Goldstein was there looking preoccupied and shuffling through some papers at her desk. She startled when he passed her desk, but when she saw it was him she gave a small smile and a hesitant good morning. 

“Morning, Goldstein,” he replied softly, trying to sound at least a bit friendly. It was still too hard to smile anywhere but the bakery. Inside his office he dropped the lunch bag on his desk and pulled out his calendar. He was meeting with Picquery in the morning, but the afternoon was booked with the quarterly status update between department heads and then a meeting with foreign officials and then slogging through the first of this year’s performance reviews for the senior aurors. He would be expected to present updates at both meetings. Even though he had thoroughly prepared he knew he would be speaking to a hostile audience and he could feel his anxiety levels crawling back up to those pre-Jacob weeks. This is why Goldstein managed to startle him when she appeared at his partially open office door. She knocked on the doorframe and uttered a quiet, “Sir?” and he jumped a few inches out of his chair. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, sir, I -“ his glare cut off her apology and she belatedly realized that she was supposed to ignore his small lapse of control. She cleared her throat and shuffled into the room with a hesitant confidence. “Sir, I’ve been notified that Mr. Scamander is returning to New York City to promote his new book, so,” she paused awkwardly, “I’ve drawn up the proper permits required for the creatures in his case. I was hoping that you could sign them so that he enters the city legally.”

Scamander? Percival was half interested in meeting the man who managed to put Grindelwald in custody. Yet he didn’t want to find out how Scamander would view him. Lingering memories of Grindelwald would surely put a strain on any meeting between them.

“I won’t have time to read them today, but leave them there. I’ll look through them tomorrow morning,” he pointed distractedly at the “to be reviewed” pile on the corner of his desk as he searched for his notes for Picquery.

“Yes, sir, I’ll -“ 

Goldstein cut off her sentence and the room seemed suddenly too still. He looked up and almost panicked when he saw what had stopped her. His bagged lunch, which proudly proclaimed “Kowalski’s Quality Baked Goods” sat on top of the paper pile he had pointed her to. Did she realize? Would she report him?

But Goldstein wasn’t suspicious. Her eyes were wide and she looked at him with something akin to fear. He had no idea why she would look at him like that, but it made him feel slightly sick. His own aurors had never been afraid of him before. 

Grindelwald had sat in this office. Grindelwald had used this chair, touched this desk, ordered the execution of innocent wizards. His face had become the face of a monster. Did it never end?

“Goldstein!” he barked with more force than he meant to. His intention was not to scare her away, but she dropped the permits on the desk and scurried out. Percival waved his door shut with a slam and locked it. Then he put his head on his desk and took a few deep breaths. He was certain that by the end of the day he would be ready to curl up and die.

 

*

 

Seraphina had noted that her Director of Magical Security was looking healthier in the past weeks. He was definitely getting more sleep, and she suspected that someone had taken on the task of feeding him. Though he always looked impeccable, even when falling apart in front of her, now his mask looked less forced. His eyes were a bit brighter, his shoulders were a bit looser. 

So when had he entered her office one morning looking twitchy and haunted, she was more than a bit alarmed. He kept his wand hand out of sight, a sure sign that it was shaking. Only yesterday he had managed to cast with it. Something had set him back. Despite this he spoke with her calmly, seemingly focused on the task at hand. He wanted to keep the meeting professional, but Seraphina couldn’t help but be a bit gentler with him than was normal between colleagues. 

“You’re doing everything right,” she told him as she walked him out of her office. She hoped the encouragement would help him get through the inter-departmental meeting she knew he would be attending.

She expected to see him late in the afternoon at the foreign affairs meeting. He was expected to answer questions from the foreign dignitaries concerning the security breach that allowed Grindelwald into MACUSA. It was not a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, but Seraphina was resolved to back him up on anything he said. She would even take on the questions herself if he got too worn down. She ended up taking all the questions since Percival never showed. 

She sent someone out to find him and received a note in return. Mr. Graves had taken ill after the afternoon meeting and was unable to attend. During a break she asked her secretary to make some inquiries. The gossip mill would be running full steam if Percival was involved. By the end of the day she was happy to see the back of the foreign wizards. It had been a long day and it only got worse when she became acquainted with the latest office gossip. 

Percival had left at the end of the inter-departmental meeting and thrown up in the fourth floor men’s restroom. The aurors saw him go into his office, but no one had seen him come out again. Knocks on his door went unanswered. 

She decided to leave him alone; to give him time to sort himself out. If he was hiding away in his office he would wait for the rest of the staff to pack up and go home before he emerged. She would wait until then to speak with him. In the meantime there was quite a lot of work for a president to do.

When the offices went dark, only a few dim lights left on for the cleaning crew, Seraphina quietly walked through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She stopped before a black door and took a steadying breath, unsure of what state the man behind it would be in. As a curtesy she knocked twice and called out so he would know it was her. Then she entered.

At first the office looked empty, but as she stepped further in and shut the door she saw him. He was on the floor, back to the wall, hands limp at his sides and knees drawn up as he stared at the floor. He wasn’t crying or shaking; just sitting very still and very quiet. 

“Perce,” she knelt in front of him. “Please, talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

When he raised his head his eyes were dry but hollow. “Nothing. Everything. Grindelwald tainted everything.”

“No, of course not,” Seraphina put her hand to his shoulder. He didn’t shrug her off so she sat beside him and looped her arm around his back to pull him close. She felt how bony his shoulder was as it pressed into her side. 

“It’s ruined. Maybe I should just resign.”

“Don’t you dare!” Seraphina tightened her hold on him as if he were about to walk away that minute. “You earned this position. You’re one of our best.”

“Today Tina Goldstein looked at me as if she thought I were about to do something terrible,” he said quietly. “My aurors are afraid of me. The other departments don’t want to listen to me. And it’s my..” he cut himself off and rubbed his eyes, “... it’s my fault.”

She had argued this with him many times before, but he refused to listen. Yes, some people blamed him for being kidnapped and impersonated, but she never had. He was strong and capable, but he was human too. He had made a mistake in his judgement. Some small error had lost him his duel with Grindelwald and the use of his wand hand. He had paid for his mistake and paid for it still. Seraphina wished this was a hurt she could kiss and make better, the way she had dealt with all the little hurts of her smaller siblings. It was all wearing him down, and she was selfish enough to want him to stay. Was she asking too much? Even the strongest people got tired when things got this tough. 

“Goldstein has a good head on her shoulders. She knows the difference between Grindelwald and you,” Seraphina told him firmly. “None of this is your fault.”

Percival was silent a moment. His next question did not take Seraphina by surprise. “What do you do when you stop believing in yourself?”

“You take strength from the belief others have in you.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “I believe in you.”

“Thank you,” he said, but with a sigh. “I don’t think that’s enough.”

“Then find more. I know you think everyone blames you, but there are still a lot of people here who support you. Surround yourself with those people.”

He didn’t answer. She decided that he needed time to think about what she’d said so she stood and dusted off her pants.

“I’m taking you home,” she said. Percival shook his head. 

“Don’t bother. I can make my own way.”

“I’m not letting you apparate in this state.”

“I’ll walk.”

“Percival,” she said seriously. “Don’t be stubborn about this. I’m taking you home and putting you to bed. This is non-negotiable.”

She pulled him to his feet and wrangled him into his coat while ignoring his further protests. She sent off a quick alert to her security detail that she was leaving the building. The two secret service aurors assigned to guard duty that night would monitor at a discreet distance. 

Dropping the mantle of president for the moment, Seraphina took her friend's arm and led him out of the building. 

“Are you ready to side along?” she asked. Percival let out a deep breath and shook his head minutely. 

“Sera, I…” he paused to close his eyes. “I moved.”

He ran a hand across his mouth agitatedly, though she saw no reason why this would upset him so much. 

“Okay,” she said cautiously. “Can you tell me where?” 

“I updated it on my personnel files,” he told her. She nodded encouragingly. Of course he would keep his files updated. He was meticulous about the rules. He took a deep breath. “I’m living above Kowalski’s Bakery.”

That was a bit surprising as it went very much against the rules, but Seraphina only tightened her grip on him as she apparated them away.

The lights in the bakery were off, the shop closed up for the night, but above the storefront the second story apartment windows glowed. The darkened street outside a No-Maj bakery was no place for the President of the Magical United States to be on a Thursday night, but that’s where she found herself. She deposited Percival at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the apartment. He stood looking at her for a long moment, eyes filled with something like fear. 

“Go on up,” she told him quietly. She ran a soothing hand down his arm and gave a little push toward the stairs. “You’re okay. Just get some sleep.”

“It’s not like...”

“Perce,” Seraphina soothed. “It will be fine.”

“But...”

“Go on. Don’t worry about it now.”

She watched him as he unsteadily ascended the stairs. Then she crossed the street and looked at the bakery thoughtfully. She had met Kowalski, though at the time she didn’t pay him much attention. Somehow Percival had met him and gotten close to him. It must have been Kowalski that inspired the positive changes she had seen in Percival recently. The relationship was doing him good, but it was also against the laws he was supposed to uphold. She would have to do something about this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **NOTIFICATION:** Dear returning readers, I was going through my previous chapters and realized that when I cut and pasted chapter 4 from my word processor I accidently left out a scene. It adds a bit more characterization as they settle in as roomies and it's quite sweet (and Percival bakes). I've added it to the beginning of chapter 4, so please go back and take a look. 
> 
> And now a Queenie chapter.

Queenie didn’t actively try to read minds (most of the time), but a natural Legilimens couldn’t help seeing the surface thoughts of those around her. Normally if she focused on her own thoughts she could ignore the others. Her time at MACUSA had become somewhat stressful. After the Grindelwald fiasco people felt so much emotion. Even when she tried to close herself off she was bombarded with the strong feelings of her coworkers. It was wearing her down. Thank Deliverance Dane she had found Jacob again. His thoughts were always filled with kindness, cheer and flattery which warmed her heart. He had been a bit worried about a friend recently, but Queenie tried not to pry too far in to his mind when his thoughts didn’t concern her. 

That afternoon as she made her way through the offices with coffee there was a bit of a buzz. People were attracted to gossip; a bad, self-indulgent habit, but one which allowed them to put aside their own self-doubt and unhappiness as they picked apart the scandal of someone else’s life. Mr. Graves seemed to be the object of this attention and Queenie let the story filter in as she made her rounds with the coffee tray.

Voices were hushed to whispers, but Queenie clearly heard their thoughts. _Sick in the men’s restroom... throwing up... might have been crying.... Graves acting strange... President rescheduled meeting... Graves.... losing control...._

Mr. Graves had been the subject of talk for the past few weeks, but this was different. There had been serious concern about security before, now there was a juvenile excitement about each new bit of gossip. Queenie had seen Mr. Graves around MACUSA since his return. He didn’t look well at all, but he seemed to be getting better. She knew a lot of people blamed him for getting captured and impersonated. Their thoughts were angry and suspicious. Mr. Graves was an easy scapegoat. It wasn’t at all fair and Queenie couldn’t do a thing about it. By habit Mr. Graves kept his mind firmly shielded with Occlumency, but Queenie could practically hear the emotional pain leaking through.

He kept up a facade of cold strength and isolated himself even more than he normally did. Something terrible must have happened if he had let himself break a bit while at work. Queenie considered bringing him a coffee. She’d make it any way he liked. Heck, she’d conjure up some whisky to pour in it if he wanted. 

“Queenie!” Tina strode through the department with an anxious look. She took Queenie’s arm and pulled her to a quiet corner. “He had a bakery bag,” she said breathlessly. “One of Jacob’s! I don’t know if he suspects. I thought the case was closed, but -“

Tina’s mind whirled. It was almost too much for Queenie to grasp, but she caught enough to feel her own panic start to rise. 

“Mr. Graves has been to the bakery again?” she asked in horror.

“This morning, he must have stopped by this morning,” Tina whispered. “I checked the case file, he wrote it himself, said there was no need for further investigation, but the bag on the desk! It was one of Jacob’s.”

“Maybe he wanted a pastry?” Queenie suggested hopefully. 

“Maybe,” Tina said, but she looked unconvinced. “But he came in before eight and Jacob doesn’t open until eight.”

“Do you think he’s done something to Jacob?”

Fear pooled in Queenie’s stomach. Jacob didn’t actually remember magic, but he remembered Queenie on some unconscious level. He remembered magic on some unconscious level. Further obliviation might take that all away from him. 

“I don’t know.” Tina looked torn. She had staunchly defended Mr. Graves to his detractors since his return, but she still couldn’t fully trust him. She still thought that he might hurt them whether intentionally or not.

“I should go see him after work,” Queenie decided. “Just to check.”

Tina nodded and then rushed off. Getting those permits ready for Newt had caused her to fall behind on her own paperwork. She had worked through lunch and hoped to be caught up by the end of the day before anyone could notice and complain. 

The rest of the day was blurred. Queenie was impatient to see Jacob, to check him over for spells or general tampering. She didn’t think Mr. Graves would intentionally harm him or do anything malicious, but she wanted her Jacob to stay. She didn’t want him to forget her. 

At five o’clock precisely she was out the door. The Woolworth building loomed behind her as she hurried down the street to an apparation point. She landed across the street from Jacob’s bakery. The lights in the shop were off and she could see the empty racks through the window. She had never been in Jacob’s apartment but she knew there was a side door that led upstairs. When she arrived at the top she took a deep breath and knocked. Jacob answered with a slightly befuddled grin.

“You’re home earl- Oh! Queenie!” His smile lit up Queenie’s heart. He remembered her. He was overjoyed to see her. She fell into his arms in relief and hugged him tight. 

“What’s this?” Jacob asked. He pulled her in tightly when he realized she was crying. She could feel the concern in his hands as he patted her hair and rubbed her back. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Queenie composed herself quickly and worried about how she had ruined her make-up. She gave a watery smile. “Just a bad day at work, honey. I’ll be fine now. I just wanted to see you.”

Jacob ushered her in to the apartment and sat with her on the couch. She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. He kissed her forehead. 

“You’re welcome anytime,” Jacob told her. “As long as your sister doesn’t think it’s inappropriate. My roommate could chaperone, but he tends to work late.”

“Tina trusts me,” Queenie giggled. They sat in silence for a while, just happy to be in each other’s company. Most of the time they spent together was in public. They went to the park or the movie house or a restaurant. It was all very proper. This quiet alone time was quite a nice next step. Queenie hoped they could do it more often. 

The grumbling of Jacob’s stomach interrupted the peaceful silence. Queenie laughed and sat up while Jacob looked sheepish. She knew how much he liked food, and especially how much he had once enjoyed her food. She hadn’t cooked for him after he had been obliviated. Now was the perfect time for it.

“Shall I make dinner?” she didn’t wait for an answer, just made her way to the kitchen. It was small, but serviceable. She would have to cook without magic. A slight challenge since she wasn’t used to doing it the No-Maj way, but for Jacob it would be worth it.

“Oh, no. You don’t have to do that,” Jacob protested as he followed her. 

“You already feed me the most delicious pastries,” Queenie argued. “Let me do something for you. Don’t worry, honey. I’m a great cook.”

Jacob looked incredibly pleased when she told him to sit back down and do the crossword while she planned what she could make in his well stocked kitchen. She wanted to make something memorable though she was sure Jacob would love anything she made. It took her longer than usual since she had to do it the no-maj way, but they chatted as she worked. She cast a few quick spells when Jacob wasn’t looking, just to make the food look a little neater, a little less misshapen by her unpracticed fingers. When she was almost done she had Jacob set out plates on his little dining table near the window. 

The easy atmosphere fled when the apartment door abruptly flew open. Queenie glanced out the cut out window in the kitchen and saw Percival Graves standing by the coat rack. Before she could panic, however, Jacob was rushing over in concern.

“Perce! Are you alright?” Jacob was quick to fuss over him. He quickly helped Mr. Graves out of his scarf and coat. Queenie could see the shake in Mr. Graves’ wand hand; how the fingers were bent and stiff. Jacob took the hand and rubbed it gently. 

Mr. Graves did not look even close to alright. He seemed too preoccupied to really notice his surroundings, but he turned his head at the right moment to catch Queenie’s eye. Though she had been watching him she was just as surprised when their gazes suddenly met. It was only for a second before he turned away, but Queenie saw the full extent of his damage through his eyes. 

“Oh, honey,” she teared up and put a hand to her mouth. In response Mr. Graves shuddered and Queenie knew he was about to cry a moment before he bent toward Jacob and hid his tears in the other man’s shoulder. Jacob held him and soothed him in the same way he had done for Queenie. He pulled Mr. Graves to the door she assumed led to the bedroom and they both disappeared inside. 

Queenie sat at the table and scrunched her eyes shut as if that would help block out what she had just seen. Mr. Graves’ mind was open for once and all his hurts exposed. Queenie was hit with a turmoil of fears, self-recriminations, doubts, and what-ifs. He thought himself weak and inadequate. Also at the forefront of his mind was the fear of losing Jacob. That was a feeling Queenie could empathize with.

The food was being kept warm in the oven and Queenie was idly staring at the unfinished crossword when Jacob reemerged from the bedroom. He looked rumpled and sad. 

“I’m sorry about dinner, Queenie,” he said as he took the seat across from her. She put her hand on the table for him to grasp. “That’s Percival. He’s been... unwell. I’ve been trying to take care of him, but something upset him today. He’s never been like that.”

“I know. It’s okay, honey,” Queenie squeezed Jacob’s hand. “I’m glad you’re helping him. He - well, I know him actually, he works in the same building as me. We’re different departments, though. He’s Tina’s boss.” 

Jacob nodded at this information. “I think I should be surprised. But for some reason I’m not.”

“He was captured and kept imprisoned a few months ago,” Queenie continued. This was Mr. Graves’ story to tell, but who knew when the man himself would be able to tell it. Jacob at least deserved an outline. “He wasn’t hurt too bad, except for his hand. Some people are angry and they’re blaming him.”

Mr. Graves’ entrance to the living room interrupted them for a second time that night. His eyes and nose were red and his suit rumpled, but his occlumency shields were back in place. He looked tired and resigned.

“Miss Goldstein,” he said with confidence, but then he hesitated, posture going stiff with indecision and shame. “I….” 

Queenie put on her warmest smile, not too big, but just enough to look empathetic. She was ready to cry again for him, but that wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead she greeted him as she would a friend. “Hello, Mr. Graves.”

“Look, I’m not here to – “ He stopped as something seemed to dawn on him. “Miss Goldstein, why are you here?”

Queenie’s eyes widened as she debated whether or not to verbally incriminate herself. Having seen Jacob and Mr. Graves’ friendship she forgot about the legality of her own relationship with her no-maj baker. Mr. Graves wouldn’t really arrest her for it, would he? She believed he was more honest than that.

“Queenie stopped by for a visit,” Jacob was quick to interject. “But it’s all completely proper. You know I wouldn’t take advantage.”

“You two…?” Mr. Graves glanced between them as he realized the nature of their relationship. He looked at Queenie. “All this time?”

Queenie bit her lip anxiously. “Since the bakery opened.”

“And you thought that I…?”

“Tina saw the Kowalski’s bag on your desk this morning. We didn’t know why you would visit unless it was for further investigation.” 

“So you came here to make sure Jacob was alright,” Mr. Graves nodded as if in understanding. He took a deep breath and then collapsed onto the couch. “Oh, thank Mercy!”

“Mr. Graves?” Queenie wasn’t sure if this atypical behavior was a good or bad sign.

“She looked at me this morning like….” He swallowed back his emotion and put his head in his hands. Despite this defeated posture his voice was full of relief. “But it was just her concern for Jacob.”

Queenie was quick to sit next to him. She rubbed her hand down his back and leaned in.

“Oh, sweetie. Tina knows you would never intentionally hurt anyone innocent. She’s always looked up to you. We both know you’re honest and dedicated and trustworthy.” It was the right thing to say because Mr. Graves relaxed beside her. She pulled away from him a bit so that she could look him in the eye. “We’re safe with each other. We both have something to lose.” 

They both looked at Jacob and Queenie held out her hand. He took it, looking only slightly bewildered as she pulled him to sit between them. Queenie scooted to the end of the couch and snuggled in with her head on Jacob’s shoulder. Mr. Graves sat against Jacob’s other side and let his head fall back against the couch. He was almost asleep in the awkward position when Jacob’s stomach rumbled again that night.

“I’ve ruined your dinner,” Mr. Graves murmured. 

“It’s okay, Perce,” Jacob told him gently. Queenie felt him shift as he put his arm around Mr. Graves and guided his head down to rest on his other shoulder. They sat like that until it was late and Queenie had to go home. She stood carefully. Mr. Graves was asleep leaning into Jacob’s comfort. She pulled the granny square afghan off the back of the rocking chair and draped it over the two men. 

“Thanks, Queenie,” Jacob whispered. 

“You’re welcome, honey.” She leaned down to kiss his cheek before she left. “Take care of him.”

“I am.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taken me a while to get this chapter out and it feels a bit short, but I'm a bit stuck on how to resolve all these conflicts I've created. Also, I started a coding bootcamp which is taking up a lot of my time. However, this story won't be abandoned, just updated more sporadically. 
> 
> Thanks to all who keep reading :) I sort of try to reply to comments, but I don't always get to all of them. So I'll say to anyone who has commented - Thank you! Glad you're enjoying it.

A baker gets up before dawn, and so when Jacob opened his eyes it was only slightly less dark in the room than it had been behind his eyelids. He winced as he lifted his head from its resting place on the back of the couch. After Queenie had kissed his forehead and quietly slipped out the door Jacob had shifted to the end of the couch, gently dislodging Percival from his shoulder in the process. Now Percival lay curled on three quarters of the couch, his head resting beside Jacob’s thigh. Carefully Jacob stood, aware both of his painfully stiff neck and his slumbering roommate. 

There was something niggling at the back of his mind. He had the feeling that he’d been dreaming, but he couldn’t remember what it was about. Percival had been in the dream. Maybe. If it was even a dream. He couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it was a memory. Whatever it was it had dissolved upon his waking. Wisps of a scene floated gently just out of reach of his conscious mind. He was somewhere dark and was surrounded by a lot of people. He wasn’t supposed to be in this place. He was frightened. Percival was there. And someone else….? Did he know anyone with red hair and a blue coat? No. He was sure he would remember someone like that. Tina had been there too. 

It must have been a dream. 

Jacob rubbed his eyes, wiping away the night's gritty buildup from the corners. Percival's restless nights took a toll on him as well, though he knew his tired days were fleeting while Percival still carried a bone-deep exhaustion. That couch wasn't doing him any favors. 

Jacob considered the curled up form of his roommate with a frown. The bed would be better, but... no. He sighed. Best not to wake him. Instead he picked up the afghan from where it had partially fallen to the floor. He spread it over Percival, taking care to tuck it under his feet and pull it all the way up to his neck. Satisfied, Jacob then looked down at himself. He felt a bit of a mess in yesterday's wrinkled clothes. And he definitely needed a toothbrush.

He went through his morning routine a bit more quietly than usual, tiptoeing around his slumbering friend in the main room. Downstairs in the bakery he let the soothing motions of setting out the ingredients for the day's bread and pastries calm the worry in his mind. The dream still niggled at the back of his mind, but it faded, as dreams do, as Jacob woke fully and busied himself with his baking. 

As the gray light of dawn began to edge in at the windows, Jacob decided not to prepare the usual eggs and bacon and made a stack of small pancakes instead. According to morning routine Percival would present his perfectly dressed and groomed self at the bottom of the stairs at six thirty precisely. They would idle over coffee and breakfast – Percival still ate quite slowly – and then Percival would be off to work with one hand raised in farewell and his coat swirling elegantly behind him as he strode down the street. 

The pancakes were being kept warm when at seven o'clock Percival had still not come down from the apartment. Jacob was wondering if he should check to make sure the man was alright, or if he should just let him sleep or brood uninterrupted. Five more minutes he decided, and then he would just peek into the main room to check. It was only three minutes later when Percival's slow footfalls sounded on the stairs. He came into the kitchen looking as professional as always, but wearing the sleepy expression that he only allowed Jacob to see. 

“Pancakes today, Perce,” Jacob retrieved the plate and set it down with a grin. He deposited two of the little pancakes on a plate and then slathered butter and sweet maple syrup on top. Percival pressed his lips together in what Jacob knew was reluctant amusement. As Jacob began to serve himself there was a light rapping on the back door. 

“Too early for deliveries, isn't it?” Percival muttered. 

“Eat your pancakes,” Jacob said over his shoulder as he stepped to the door. He let out a surprised 'oh' as he saw who was on the other side. 

“Morning, honey!” Queenie was as bright and cheery in the mornings as she was in the afternoons and evenings. Jacob's heart fluttered when she gave him that wide, happy smile. He let her in and insisted she sit down with them. 

“I haven't made pancakes in years,” Queenie told them excitedly as she filled a plate. “Teenie always wants an egg and toast for breakfast. Sometimes she only gulps half a cup of coffee before running off to work. Just like an auror,” Queenie shook her head in mock exasperation.

“An auror? What's that?” Jacob asked. “I thought she worked in law enforcement.”

“Oh,” Queenie blinked and looked as if she regretted her words. From the other side of the table Percival gave her a stern look from under his heavy brows. “That's just the name of the division she works in.”

“Ah,” Jacob said, but he felt as if there was more to it than that. Both she and Percival started looking a little shifty. Jacob was beginning to think that it wasn't his imagination that neither one of them liked to tell him too much about themselves. 

“Have another pancake, Mr. Graves,” Queenie said brightly and it broke some of the tension. 

“I'm set, thank you,” Percival speared the last tiny bite of his second pancake with his fork. 

“Another won't hurt,” Queenie insisted. “There's no need to watch your figure. In fact, once you fill out a little more you can once again claim the title of handsomest man in New York City. Except for Jacob.”

Percival seemed to relax a bit at Queenie's good natured teasing. He accepted another small pancake and ate a third of it before declaring that he had to be getting to work. Queenie jumped up. 

“Oh, we can walk together,” she said as if it was not obvious that this had been her plan all along. 

*

Percival didn't know whether to be grateful or irritated with the younger Miss Goldstein's insistence at molly coddling him by walking him to work. Her heart was in the right place. She was very sweet and had a gentleness about her that reminded him of Jacob. She and Jacob were a good match. Percival found himself being reluctantly drawn to their warm and happy personalities. 

Still, it would do them no good if Miss Goldstein forgot to keep her secrets and her discretion. 

“That was careless, Miss Goldstein,” Percival chastised as they turned the corner and headed for one of the dim alleys from which they could apparate. 

Miss Goldstein looked contrite for about three seconds before her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I didn't reveal anything, sir. I never talk to Jacob about magic or about our society.”

“I should hope not,” Percival kept his tone stern, despite how hypocritical he felt to be having this conversation with her. “But a little slip of the tongue like that could lead to greater secrets being revealed. Remember that Rappaport's Law is what keeps us safe.”

“Rappaport's law is -” Miss Goldstein cut herself off and took a deep breath. She glanced at Percival warily, but though he could guess at the words she held back, he did not blame her for them. There was a pause before she spoke again. “Jacob would never put us in danger.”

“Then we are what keeps him safe,” Percival told her quietly. They entered the empty alley and he turned to her as they stopped.

“Oh, Mr. Graves.” Miss Goldstein shook her head, but said nothing more as they each disappeared into a cloud of smoke. 

There were a few stares as Director Graves and Miss Goldstein walked into MACUSA together. Percival was sure that news of his breakdown had made it's way into every department. He readied himself for a day full of scrutinizing looks and unconcealed contempt. That morning when he had woken up on the couch and remembered the reason for his sleeping there, he had almost pulled the afghan over his head to block out the day. But the day would not go away just because he couldn't see it, so he had forced himself up to face it with dignity. 

As they made their way up the steps in the grand lobby, Percival was surprised to see the scowl forming on his companion's usually cheery face. Half way up the stairs she inexplicably took his arm in hers and when she glanced up at him she replaced her scowl with a smile. Percival was not sure of what she meant by these actions, but her friendly touch did calm a little of the churning in his stomach. At the top of the stairs they parted. Miss Goldstein gave his shoulder a gentle rub.

“You are strong and good at your job,” she told him earnestly. “Just remember that, honey.” 

She had a flirty little stride in those high heels of hers, but Percival barely noticed it as she walked away from him. Knowing that he was being watched, he did not let his confusion show. Instead he turned and strode purposefully to the DMLE. Most of his aurors would probably be at their desks already unless they were out checking into new leads or cases. The department was just over half full when he arrived. He ignored the stares as he passed, kept his head up and his gaze straight ahead. He unlocked his office door with a wordless spell as soon as his hand touched the nob. Then he was inside and collapsing in front of the waste bin to expel Jacob's lovingly made pancakes. 

He continued to dry heave for a moment afterward until the nausea passed and he could straiten up again. Sitting back on his heels he closed his eyes while breathing deeply. A glass of water appeared in his hand. He turned sharply and to his horror saw that Goldstein was crouched on the floor next to him. He had been so intent on making it to his office he hadn't even noticed her scurrying behind him.

“Goldstein,” he tried for anger, but his voice came out too croaky.

“Shhh,” Goldstein put one hand on his back and nudged at the glass she had given him with the other. “It's alright to not feel well, sir. There's a stomach bug going around the office.”

Percival almost resented her for her pretense, but it was true that the aurors were passing some sort of mild flu throughout the department. He knew Goldstein was only trying to spare him the embarrassment of admitting that he was sick with nerves and stress. Grudgingly he took a few sips of the water because he knew he would feel better for it. Goldstein kept her hand on his back, an unwelcome but nonetheless comforting weight. 

“I'm sorry, sir,” she said when he had put the half empty glass on the floor and taken a deep breath. “I only hoped to catch you before you... um... were too busy. The creature permits....” 

She trailed off. He'd been too sharp with her the morning before and that's what had set yesterday and today's fiasco in motion. But it was hardly Goldstein's fault. Once he closed his door for the day no one but his long suffering secretary or the president dared knock. He thought with bitterness about the open door policy he'd had in the past. His aurors hadn't been afraid of him then, and he hadn't been afraid of them. He cleared his throat and stood slowly. Goldstein's hand slid lower but stayed on his back as she rose with him. 

“Of course,” he said. With a discreet hand wave he sent the contents of his trash bin to the MACUSA's waste disposal. The hand that Goldstein had gently pressed to his back slipped away as he stepped to his desk. The permits were at the top of his paperwork pile where Goldstein had hastily deposited them the day before. He always made it a policy to read paperwork before he signed anything, but now he couldn't be bothered. That was probably for the best. He would prefer not to know what Scamander kept in his suitcase and pretended he didn't see the word “Nundu” at the top of one permit. He had enough stress in his life without worrying about the escape of dangerous magical creatures. 

He felt his professional persona reassert itself as he signed the disturbingly thick stack of permits. For a moment he was content, feeling useful but not having to think too hard about anything. Too soon the last permit was signed and the easy part of the day was already over and he wanted to put his pen down and slump back into his chair, but he couldn't because there was still so much to do and he needed to just get on with it. Then Goldstein put her hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her. 

“Thank you, sir,” she said and she was smiling very faintly because she was happy, but she was still concerned for him and that's what made the look on her face so gentle. And then the tears. Oh Merlin, more tears. He hadn't once cried in nearly fifteen years and now he'd broken down three time in two days. He allowed Goldstein to pull him up and wrap him in a hug, something he wouldn't even let Seraphina do. Goldstein was tall and it was no effort at all to let his head fall to her shoulder. In fact it was surprisingly easy to let her hold onto him and rub her hand across his back. 

“I'm sorry for doubting you, Mr. Graves,” Goldstein murmured into his ear. “I'm sorry we didn't know you were gone. But you're back now and I'd like it if you stayed.”

He let her keep her arms around him for a little longer until he felt steady enough to raise his head. Goldstein took a step back and offered him a handkerchief. 

“Is there anything I can get for you?” she asked as he self consciously wiped the tears from his cheeks. She gathered the permits up in a pile and hugged them to her chest while looking at him with wide and earnest eyes. 

“No,” he said gruffly and then cleared his throat. His next words came out a little stronger. “Thank you, Goldstein.”

“Coffee, maybe? No? Are you sure?”

“Just get back to work, Goldstein.” 

“Yes, sir,” she hunched over the papers clutched to her chest and turned to the door. Then she spun around. “Thank you again, sir... for the permits. And you can keep the handkerchief.”

If Percival didn't feel so worn down he might have smiled at her. Instead he only managed a little nod of thanks and acknowledgment. Goldstein grinned at him and disappeared out the door. Percival lifted his hand to perform a spell to shut it and then paused. He sat behind his desk and rifled through the paperwork, pulling out what needed his immediate attention. The door remained very slightly open, just a little gap. Most likely no one would notice or care unless they actually knocked on it. Someone actually doing that was unlikely. Everyone was giving him a wide berth these days. But he knew that this was a step forward. Eventually he would prop it open as he used to do. It might take some time to get to that point, but he was determined to do it. 

Seraphina was right. He couldn't let one setback ruin how far he'd come already. He had her trust, he had Jacob's care, and he clearly had the Goldstein sisters' support. With that in mind he picked up his pen and got on with his work.


End file.
